Ok so this was appallingly late and the worst part it is I wrote it weeks ago! Thanks to lfrost for reminding me to post it! This chapter is exciting for me because we start to see proper direction (I hope it excites you too). So yeah enjoy! Reviews as always, would be lovely.
It was all down to chance really, that he would manage to catch her. By all means she should have left by now, jumped in a taxi. But her shoe strap had come undone, by some miracle, and she'd been forced to stop and re-do it, delaying her inevitable exit and giving him seconds, crucial seconds, to catch her. And he did, running at full speed, arms flailing, suddenly excruciatingly aware of the amount of alcohol he's drunken. He spots her from a distance, bent over, hunched downwards and he wanted to call over but when he tried his throat was numb, unyielding.
So he runs, footsteps thumping the ground softly and repeatedly, keeping his mind straight and his eyes focused on Jenna, afraid if he lets her out of his sight, even for a second, the repercussions could be tragic. Before he knew it he was beside her, behind her and although she hadn't yet turned to look at him he knew she was aware of his presence. Just one look at her told him as much. She's stiffened and her hunched state is rigid, almost defensive.
They are alone, with only the moonlight as their spectator, they are finally alone. The noise and hustle of the party suddenly seems a million miles away in the secluded car park that bears witness to their encounter.
When he places a hand on her shoulder, softly, in an attempt not to startle her she cannot hide her involuntary flinching and he cannot hide the flash of guilt across his face. She stands slowly, having now fixed her shoe and turns to face him. He can tell that she's angry, and he admits, with good reason. But there's something else, her body is tense, her stance unnatural and she is holding her arms around herself protectively. Having finally interacted with her, he can see that like him she's affected by the alcohol that was so readily available at the party and again he cannot disguise his guilt. He doesn't know whether he was aware of her drinking alone or he simply chose to ignore it, chose to ignore her. In a way though the alcohol may work to his advantage. In his experience when Jenna was drunk, even when she was just tipsy, her every emotion was heightened, sharpened and tonight that might just be what he needs, what they need. It might take Jenna finally a little reckless with her feelings to admit to him what she clearly is unable to comprehend sober. On the other hand she might be drunk enough to tell him it's all in his head.
He cannot help but remember the night she stayed at his apartment, when she'd first opened up to him. It hurts him to admit it but he knows that without the alcohol poisoning her blood and luring her into recklessness she would have never opened up to him and that could have meant she might still be with Jake. He doesn't even try to hide his shudder, praying the bitter wind will act as his guise.
She closed her eyes, as if to steady herself and then snapped them open to meet his with an intensity so strong it threw him for a second and he couldn't help but drop her gaze.
"Are you ok?" He began then almost laughed out loud at the stupidity of his question. Wasn't that clear?
She simply raised an eyebrow, questioningly and he dropped her gaze once more, ashamedly. Fumbling with his jacket sleeve he desperately searched for something to say that could resurrect the complacency they'd both experienced together before, in her trailer. Apparently she was in no mood for waiting. Stepping forward, in a way that had she'd not swayed slightly would have intimidated him, she jabs a finger into his chest, eyes narrowing.
"If you have something to say Matt, make it quick. I don't have time for this, my taxi will be here any minute."
She may have been swaying slightly but her voice her voice was steely and he knew that the resolute determination she was challenging him with wasn't all down to the copious glasses of wine she'd clearly had no issue putting away.
"I'm sorry Jenna, I know I've not exactly been there for you tonight it's just Karen and I haven't seen each other for a while and I just-"
She scoffs, halting his impromptu monologue. His excuses are pathetic and they both know it.
"Save it Matt." And then she's turned and he freezes and she's walking away and before he can understand why he's done it his hand is wrapped firmly around her wrist and he's pulled her round to face him.
He watches as her eyes flash with anger, yet this time he does not flinch or look away, nor does he bombard her with timid excuses. Extending a finger to her chin, he pushed it upwards so her eyes are locked with his and lowers his voice to a gravelly whisper.
"I think you know why I did it."
He'd caught her attention now and he's fully aware of it. He watches, almost amusedly, as an array of emotion flashes across her face. First confusion, then recollection, and then guilt, finally settling on fury.
She shoved his hand from her face heatedly. "What?" She demands and the severity of her accusatory tone coupled with the look on her face flares a bud of anger in the pit of his stomach.
He steps closer to her, so that their bodies are brushing and the intimacy of their proximity only heightens his sudden blaze of emotion.
"Jenna, don't pretend." He's aware his voice has raised to almost a growl yet he does nothing to supress it, he's tired of the games.
"Don't pretend that today, you've not been avoiding me today, after, after what happened. You appear to have the power of subtlety on your side but don't for a second try and pretend you haven't hurt me like I've hurt you. Sure, I ignored you tonight and yeah that was pretty low of me but don't pretend that you didn't do exactly the same every time you brushed me off and left me disappointed."
She blinked, surprised at his sudden outburst but in a second she'd steeled herself and pushed him away from her, in retaliation to his accusation. "Wow Matt." She folded her arms to put space between them and met his gaze with a ruthless determination, her voice dry. "I am so sorry you're right, that does give you the right to ignore me. Consider my lesson, entirely learnt."
He tried to interject but she raised her voice to counteract him. "Matt I am sorry if I wasn't ready to fall into your arms and sail off into the sunset. Maybe I thought that you understood, God, maybe I actually though that for once someone understood, someone got me."
Then suddenly her voice drops, anger melting away in a second and it tears him to pieces. "I thought you understand Matt, I thought that you know after everything I'd have to be slow, after everything, after Jake." Her voice trembles on the syllable of his name and in a second her anger has returned, as if showing a moment of weakness infuriates her. "I'm sorry for being apprehensive, unsure of how to cope with you, with this. I'm really fucking sorry."
His eyes locked with hers and it threw a wave of nerves in her stomach but she didn't drop his gaze. When he spoke his voice was low, guttural and it didn't fail to force goosebumps to shimmer across her skin.
"I'm sorry too Jenna."
They are but an inch apart and her heart is dancing, fear, apprehension and arousal are spinning her head in circles, coupled with the alcohol she feels dazed, overwhelmed. Yet she doesn't move a centimetre.
Moving even a centimetre would give him the advantage, she knows that. If she moves but a centimetre it will show him her discomfort under the scrutiny of his gaze, prove to him that when he looks at her like that, pierces her with those eyes, she is empowered. Those green and gold eyes, the eyes that captivated her the first time she caught them, although she would never admit it. The eyes that filled her with elation when they lit up in laughter and sadness when they clouded over in torment.
They eyes that wouldn't look at her tonight.
And that the ugly creature that is her anger rears its head and painstakingly she breaks eye-contact with him, unwilling for him to see the vehemence in her eyes. If he looks too close, past her rage he will arrive at the part of her that forgave him for his behaviour the very second he put his hand on her shoulder. That part of her is dangerous.
"I don't know Matt."
"You don't know what?"
Anything. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't know why a part of her has already forgiven Matt for his blatant ignorance of her presence when growing up she'd sworn she'd never let a man treat her like that. She doesn't know why when Matt looks at her, properly looks at her, she feels about 15 years old again and head over heels for her first crush. She doesn't know why after everything he's still pursuing her, he still ran after her, when he has his friends and Karen and everyone back inside the bustle of the building to be with, to socialise with.
"I don't know what to do anymore."
He pauses, mouth slightly ajar as if words will not find him. When he fails to provide a response she throws her hands in the air, purely in exasperation, but without registering his actions he moves deftly to catch them above her head and in a second overpowers her, pushing her back so that her small body is pressed between the cold wall of the building and the warm wall of his body.
Neither of them feels drunk anymore.
"I know what to do now." He whispers and as his words register with her his lips have caught hers swiftly and before she has a chance to realise what she's doing, her hands hanging so limply at her side have found the back of his neck and are pulling him closer to her. And then her brain catches up and she pulls away, dazed.
"Matt" She breaths. "This isn't going to wor-"
His lips splinter her protestation and this time she does not pull away. She wraps her arms around his neck and forces their bodies together. His hands, pressed to the wall above her head, move to run down her figure, fingertips grazing the sides of her body until he reaches her waist where they settle firmly around her hips and she pushes off the wall to conform to his hold. Her own fingers push through his hair as their mouths dance and a shiver racks her as his teeth nip her bottom lip. The sharp honking of a horn penetrates their ecstasy and they both pull away suddenly, shielding their eyes from the glaring lights of the Jenna's taxi.
"Matt." She gasps, sucking in air readily.
"Jenna." He grins, his eyes lighting up. She giggles like a school girl caught kissing her boyfriend behind the bike shed and it doesn't fail to fire a beam of warmth inside him.
They climb into the taxi together, intoxicated by each other, drunk on happiness. Matt pulls Jenna to him and she wraps her arms around his frame, peacefully breathing in the scent that defines him. He stares at her, helplessly trying to retain as much of the moment as he can. Placing a soft kiss onto the silken mounds of her hair he lets himself go to her, knowing at last, even if he could not admit it to himself before, he finally knows the truth.
As the taxi rolls away from the car park the man's face cracks into a smile that would appear to an outsider to be sinister. They didn't hear the snapping of the shutters of the camera and even in the darkness nor did they see the flash. Why would they? It was late, too late for them to expect him and they had been too wrapped up in each other to even be wary. As he walks to his car, at the opposite end of the lot he checks his camera and upon seeing the results of his work cannot help but grin once more. He can practically feel the weight of the money that will line his pockets come tomorrow.
Soon it would occur to them both Matt and Jenna that love and life can be cruel, can be merciless. Life will dangle in front of you everything you ever wanted and watch teasingly as you reach for it, desperate for your prize. Then, just as your fingers brush euphoria life will smile and snatch it away.
Soon it would occur to them that their days are numbered.